


Broca Divide

by thenakednymph



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Admit it, Angst, Fluff, I regularly rip ideas from that for Klance, Lance gets hit with some pollen and shit happens, M/M, Mutual Pining, PINING KEITH, Protective Lance, Soft keith, and yet no one has called me out for it yet, feral Lance, flangst, go figure, if I could think of a better title for this I would, it's basically the broca divide episode of sg-1, mild dubious conscent, no i'm not sorry, pining lance, posessive Lance, you all like the angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-22 10:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22562122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenakednymph/pseuds/thenakednymph
Summary: When Lance's mind is stripped down the barest of needs there's only one he fixates on: Keith.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 64
Kudos: 529





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There's like four or five chapters to this but I haven't split them up yet so I'm not sure.

Lance opens his eyes, a deep feeling of wrongness tickling over his skin. Everything smells strange, cold and sterile and not at all like his room. Worse than that he’s alone. He isn’t supposed to be alone. 

Lance’s head darts from one side of the room to the other, his heart beginning to pound. Where is his mate? Why is he alone? _Where is his mate?_

Tearing himself free of the tangle of machines and wires Lance bolts from the room, a ball of anxiety in his chest. Where? Where?

He sprints down the hall, catching the smell of him, a thread of relief easing Lance’s growing panic. He runs down the hall, following the scent of warmth, and leather, and _safe._ He pounds on the door with a fist, his cheeks flushed and panting from the run. 

Lance can hear him stirring inside, headed for the door and practically vibrates as it opens. Lance’s heart soars at the sight of him. 

_Mate! He_ lunges forward, wrapping Keith in a hug that has him stumbling backwards, the door shutting behind them. 

Lance presses his nose to Keith’s throat and takes a deep breath, basking in the smell of him. He’s safe and that’s all that matters. Lance makes a pleased little noise in the back of his throat, holding him closer. 

“Lance?” Keith’s voice comes out in a sleepy grumble. 

Lance noses along his throat and can hear it when Keith’s pulse spikes. His tongue darts out against sleep-warm skin and Keith gasps, still too surprised to shove him off. Lance grins, tasting adrenaline and sucks a kiss into Keith’s throat under his jaw, working over it with his teeth. 

Keith’s knees go weak on a gasp and Lance’s grip tightens, holding him closer as his tongue laves over the bruise, Keith inadvertently tipping his chin up to give him space. 

"Fuck," he breathes. 

_Mine._ Lance kisses the spot, pleased to see it already red and darkening on Keith’s fair skin. 

He kisses Keith’s jaw, his cheek, the corner or his mouth and Keith gasps again, stumbling backward. His feet tangle and they hit the floor in a heap. Not that Lance minds. 

He drapes his body all along Keith's, one hand running up and over the firm planes of his chest, nipping at Keith’s ear playfully. He jerks beneath Lance so he does it again, sucking the sensitive lobe into his mouth. 

Keith whines and Lance rocks their hips together, seeming to snap Keith out of whatever daze he’s in. Lance can smell the arousal on his skin and laughs as Keith grapples with him, rolling them across the floor, trying to throw Lance off. 

Lance uses the momentum to instead pull Keith over on top of him, still grinning playfully.

Keith grabs a fistful of Lance’s hair, trying to wrench him back and Lance arches up into him, wincing as Keith yanks his head back. Then he grins, a pleased little hum in his throat.

“Because of course you’re into hair pulling,” Keith mutters, his cheeks going red. 

Lance wraps his fingers around Keith's wrist, knocking his other arm out from under him and Keith falls into Lance’s chest, grunting at the impact. 

Lance rolls them again, trapping Keith beneath him, capturing his mouth in a hot kiss. 

Keith makes a grab for him but Lance captures his wrist again, pinning it to the floor, catching Keith’s lower lip with his teeth as he does. He lets his weight settle more firmly against Keith’s chest, hooking one leg behind his knee, keeping him close. He rolls his tongue against Keith’s lip, dipping inside his mouth and Keith shudders, the tension in his arm going slack. His face flushes and his eyes drift shut. Lance loosens his grip, sliding his hand over Keith’s wrist to tangle their fingers together, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. 

He hums pleasantly, tongue sliding along Keith’s as his body finally goes lax. Keith tilts his head up into the kiss, pressing back. Lance licks over the back of his teeth, the fingers of his free hand tangling in Keith's dark hair, drawing him closer. Lance sucks briefly on Keith’s tongue before pulling away and Keith whines, panting, trying to chase Lance’s mouth but his hands are still trapped. 

Lance kisses his cheek in apology before ducking his head, kissing the tender spot just below Keith’s ear, dragging the heat of his tongue and his lips down to his collarbone, leaving a slow trail of bruises in his wake.

Lance pulls his fingers free from Keith’s, seeking out more leverage as Keith tips his head back, baring the pale line of his throat and Lance hums, pleased his mate is happy. He sucks another bruising kiss to his pulse, running his hand down Keith’s ribs to his hip, over his thigh, hooking behind Keith’s knee and lifting it to wrap around his hip. 

Holding him there Lance settles more comfortably between Keith’s knees, rocking into him. He’d missed him.

Keith gasps, eyes flickering open to stare at the ceiling as he realizes what’s happening. 

“Lance,” he manages, struggling to focus through the waves of arousal. His hands are shaking. 

“Lance, stop.” It sounds weak even to him and Lance hums again, his lips against the dip of Keith’s clavicle, the vibrations going straight to his groin. 

He can feel Lance grin against his throat and is suddenly very aware of his teeth and the position he’s in. Whatever has happened to him has either made Lance stronger or Lance is much better at hand to hand than before. Keith is very much trapped. And that scares him. 

He freezes, Lance’s hand still hooked under his knee, Keith’s hands pressed weakly to his chest, trying to push him away. 

Lance can smell the flash of fear and licks a stripe up the side of Keith’s throat with a whine. He can taste it there too, sour on his tongue and he pulls back, realizing his mate is afraid; of him. 

He stares down at Keith, too-dark eyes wide and whines in distress. 

Keith is shaking beneath him and not in a good way. Lance pulls further back.

The door snaps open and Lance’s head whips around but Shiro already has an arm around his waist, dragging him off Keith. 

He kicks and snarls, clawing at Shiro’s arms, fighting to get loose, to protect, thrashing madly.

“Watch out for his teeth!” Keith warns but it’s a second too late and Lance is sinking his teeth into Shiro’s human arm. He cries out in pain, releasing Lance and he’s surging back towards Keith, trying to put himself between his mate and their attacker. Shiro catches him around the waist before he can get very far, dragging him to the floor. 

“Don’t hurt him!”

“I’m trying,” Shiro grinds out, grappling for Lance’s arms, trying to pin them behind him. “But he’s not making it very easy.” He pins Lance to the floor, one arm twisted paintlfully behind his back. 

Lance bucks, yanking at his arm until there’s a sickening pop, battering himself against the floor, trying to get free. He splits his lip open on the steel floor and tastes blood.

“He’s gonna hurt himself!” 

Lance whines at the distress in Keith’s voice, doubling down on his efforts to get free. He kicks and snarls, trying to drive his head back into Shiro’s nose but he can’t get the leverage he needs. Shiro strikes him hard across the back of the head and Lance falls limp. 

Their labored breathing fills the silence as Keith stands, one hand pressed to the bruises over his throat. 

“Is he okay?”

Shiro scrambles off Lance, turning him over. “I think so.”

“Did you have to hit him that hard?” Keith snaps, coming to kneel beside them. He presses his fingers to the growing welt on the back of Lance’s head through his hair, looking for blood.

“He looked like he was trying to tear your throat out!” Shiro defends. 

Keith flushes and looks away, slapping a hand over the bruises again but Shiro doesn’t say anything.

“We need to get him into a holding cell before he comes around again.”

“Is that really necessary?” Keith doesn’t know what’s going on. He thought Lance was fine, just a little dizzy after he’d gotten hit with some spores on their last mission. They’d only had him in the medical lab for observation. 

Shiro hauls Lance over his shoulder and heads for the hall, Keith following after. 

“We don’t know what these foreign bodies in his blood are doing to him but it’s obvious now they’re doing something. His brain activity is off the charts.” Keith blinks into the artificial light, surprised to find the others all gathered outside his room.

Pidge blinks at him dumbly, eyes scanning over the series of hickeys now coloring Keith’s neck. “Jesus, what happened to you?” 

Keith flushes again, slapping a hand over the bruises. 

“Nothing,” he snaps, face flaring with color. 

Hunk glances at Lance where he’s draped over Shiro’s shoulders. “Is he going to be okay?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance wakes up and does everyone a concern.

Lance comes to on the cold floor of one of the holding cells, his head throbbing. He sees Keith a few feet away and lunges, slamming hard against the force field sealing him in. He bares his teeth and snarls, all of the paladins on the other side stepping back in surprise. Lance slaps the shield with his hand so hard it stings, furious to be separated from his mate. 

“Lance?” 

His eyes snap to Hunk at the sound of his voice and Hunk pales. “What’s going on with his eyes?” he asks weakly, looking at the others. 

Lance’s pupils have nearly swallowed the blue of his irises, making them look black. It’s eerie.

Pidge stares down at the tablet in their hands. “I’m not sure but it looks like whatever he’s being affected by is altering his brain chemistry.”

“How so?” Shiro glances over their shoulder but can’t decipher whatever Pidge is looking at. 

Lance ignores them, turning to stare intently at Keith. He whines softly.

Pidge glances between them for a moment, an odd look on their face before reaching out and grabbing Keith’s sleeve. 

Lance turns on them with a snarl, throwing himself against the shield.

Pidge pulls Keith to one side, Lance’s eyes snapping to him at the movement. Pidge pushes him back in the other direction and Lance’s gaze follows. 

“Huh.”

“Huh what?” Keith asks looking down at them. 

Pidge lets go of Keith’s sleeve, studying the scans of Lance’s brain activity. 

“Is he dangerous?” Hunk asks but Pidge is shaking their head. 

“I don’t think so but-”

“He tried to rip Keith's throat out,” Shiro argues and Pidge stares at him flatly. 

“Shiro, I know it’s been awhile since you last got laid, but surely you remember what hickeys look like.” Pidge adjusts their glasses and this time everyone blushes. 

“Pidge!”

“What? I’m just saying.” They make another notation on the tablet. “Given Lance’s behavior I’d say it’s fairly obvious he wasn’t trying to kill Keith.”

“I am not Lance’s-” Keith doesn’t know how to finish that sentence.

“Mate?” Pidge offers, a deep glitter to their eyes and Keith flushes all the way up to his ears. “Cause he seems to think so.” They gesture with a thumb to Lance who hasn’t taken his eyes off Keith.

“Overly aggressive to everyone who’s within five feet of you let alone touching, overbearing and protective, and driven by that and an apparent need to mate. He’s gone primal. Whatever this shit is it’s shut down almost all but the most basic of instincts.”

“Why Keith?” Shiro asks and Pidge shrugs. 

“Dunno. But better him than me. But to answer your question Hunk, before I was so rudely interrupted.” They shoot a look at Shiro. “He isn’t exactly safe, but so long as you don’t present what Lance feels to be a threat to Keith or try to get between them, you should be fine.”

Lance has started to pace back and forth across the cell, his eyes only leaving Keith’s to glare at the seam of the cell where the shield is being projected from, searching for a way out. He periodically slams his shoulder into it with a snarl.

“What is he doing?” Hunk asks, worrying his hands together. 

“Looking for a weakness,” Keith says quietly. Lance’s eyes snap to his at the sound of his voice. “He’s looking for a way out.” 

Keith manages to look away. He’s not used to being the focus of so much attention. “Do we need to sedate him?”

Pidge scratches at their cheek, studying Lance. “Maybe. He could seriously hurt himself if he keeps that up. What happened to his shoulder?” 

“He dislocated it trying to get loose when I pulled him off Keith,” Shiro explains. 

Pidge’s eyebrows lift. “Damn.” They turn back to Lance. “In that case, maybe. But I’m not volunteering to give it to him.” 

“Maybe we can find a way to administer it through the vents,” Hunk offers. “In a gaseous form?”

“Good idea. Hunk, you’re with me. I don’t care what the rest of you do but you should probably go back to bed. It’ll be awhile before we manage to find a cure for whatever is doing this. 

“Until then I suggest we leave Lance here. Maybe it’ll work it’s way out of his system overnight.” 

“You think that’s possible?” Keith asks. 

Pidge shrugs. “Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky.” They wander off, Hunk in tow. 

Keith throws a look back over his shoulder as they leave, Lance whining in protest, hands pressed against the shield. 

As soon as Keith is out of sight Lance shrieks, high and terrified, throwing himself against the shield, battering it with his fists. 

Hunk pales at the sound. “Is that Lance?” 

Keith doesn’t wait to find out. He’s running back to the cell where Lance is still shrieking, throwing himself against the shield. 

“Stop! Lance stop, you’re hurting yourself!” At the sound of his voice Lance immediately stills. He presses his hands against the shield where Keith has reached out to touch it, pressing his forehead against it with a whine, trying to get closer. There’s blood smeared across it in places, a red mark on Lance’s cheek and his knuckles are split and bleeding. 

They’re all ashen and Keith swallows thickly. “I think...I’m gonna stay here for awhile, if that’s okay.”

Shiro nods. “Yeah, I’ll get you a blanket.”

“We’ll get to work on a way to introduce a sedative.” Even Pidge’s voice sounds high and tight.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Keith says thickly. 

Lance whines plaintively, tears in his eyes as Keith sits on the floor, sinking down to follow him. Keith doesn’t know what’s happening and he’s uncomfortable under all the scrutiny, but if being here will keep Lance from hurting himself, Keith will stay. 

“I’ll see you guys in the morning.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't realize how short this was so extra chapter today.

Shiro comes back with a pillow and blanket and while Lance narrows his eyes, his posture relaxes as Shiro offers both to Keith, deciding he’s not a threat. 

“Thanks.”

Lance growls in warning as Shiro goes to touch Keith and Shiro holds up his hands in defeat, taking a step back. Lance quiets and studies him, glancing between Shiro and the blanket. 

Something in his face falls as he realizes Keith is cold and he’d failed to provide what he’d needed. He whines plaintively, slumping against the shield.

“Is he okay?” Shiro asks. Keith wraps himself in the blanket and shrugs.

“I’m not sure. He's stopped trying to beat himself to death though.” 

Shiro nods. “Good. Let us know if anything changes.”

“I will.” 

He watches Shiro go before leaning against the corner close to the shield. Lance scoots closer, wedging himself between the shield and the wall, frustrated that he can’t touch. Did he do something wrong? Is he being punished?

He whines, long and soft, his eyes wet.

“Hey, what’s going on in there?” Keith taps lightly against the shield and Lance whines again. He slaps weakly against the shield with a huff. 

Keith laughs softly and Lance seems to perk up.

“Are you okay?” He taps at his lip before pointing at Lance who mirrors the movement. 

His fingers brush over his split lip and he flinches, blood dribbling down his chin again. Lance whines, gently probing the wound with his tongue. He uses the collar of his shirt to try and stop the bleeding. Keith winces with him. 

“Sorry.” He fiddles with the edge of his blanket. 

Lance huffs, lowering the shirt and letting it bleed. 

“You can understand me can’t you?”

Lance tilts his head, blinking too-dark eyes at Keith. He isn’t sure if that’s a yes or a no. 

“How’s your shoulder?” he asks anyway. 

Lance looks down at his arm and whines. 

“Yeah, we’ll get that looked at as soon as possible.” 

Lance frowns before just manhandling his own arm and Keith watches it pop back into place. He feels sick at the sound and Lance makes another distressed nose. He’s panting softly and cradles his arm to his chest but it’s no longer hanging limply at his side. 

Keith presses a hand to the shield. “Why would you do that?”

Lance covers his shoulder with a hand and makes another small distressed noise and then another more content noise.

“Because it hurt, right.” Awkward silence falls and the two watch one another, Lance seemingly content to just stare at him. Keith flushes under the attention, shifting awkwardly. Lance lifts a hand, his fingers stroking gently down the shield over where Keith’s cheek would be, watching as the blush spreads. 

“We’re really going to have to talk after this,” Keith mutters, pulling the blanket tighter and trying not to remember what it felt like to be under Lance. 

It’s going to be a long night. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is a little more communicative in the morning and Keith gets vulnerable.

Keith groans, shifting uncomfortably on the cold steel. He’s stiff and sore and for a moment he doesn’t remember where he is. He scrubs a hand over his eyes and sits up, memories of last night coming back to him. 

“Lance?” He scans the cell. There isn’t a whole lot in there but it still takes him a minute to find Lance. He’s huddled over in the furthest corner, hiding in the shadows.

At the sound of Keith’s voice he curls deeper into the corner, burying his head behind his shoulder. 

Keith stands with a wince, his body protesting the night he’d spent on the hard steel. He pops his spine with a groan.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Lance ignores him and at the lack of a response Keith comes more alert. 

“Lance?” He still doesn’t answer. 

After a brief mental debate Keith lowers the shield, stepping inside. 

“Lance, are you hurt?” He takes a step closer and Lance flinches, scrambling further away, trying to make himself even smaller but there’s nowhere to go.

“Don’t.” His voice is so small and afraid Keith sinks to the floor, one hand extended between them as if somehow that will reassure Lance he isn’t trying to hurt him.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, lowering his voice. “No one's going to hurt you.” 

Lance shakes his head, fingers tight on his arms, head still buried.

“Scared,” he whines. 

Keith scoots just a little closer. “Of what? What are you scared of?” He has no idea what this sudden change is from last night. “You’re safe here.”

Lance shakes his head more vehemently. “Not me…” he chokes out. “You.”

Keith frowns, confused, his arm dropping. “I’m not afraid of you Lance.”

He finally looks up, blue eyes angry and forlorn and Keith can see the tear tracks down his cheeks. The sight startles him.

“‘fraid of me.” His words are broken and slow, like they’re hard to form but it’s better than the silence and endless staring. 

Keith shakes his head. Where is this coming from? 

“I’m not.”

Lance scowls, still hiding behind his knees. “Are.” He nods firmly as if arguing. His posture sags and he hides behind his knees again.

“Smell it,” he whispers. His eyes well with tears again. “Taste it.” His voice goes thick with hurt and self-loathing. 

Keith blushes remembering Lance’s tongue on his throat and his heart races. 

“You kind of ambushed me,” he says softly. “I’m not used to having someone’s teeth that close to my throat.” His voice goes teasing and he tries to smile but Lance ducks further behind his knees. 

“Would never hurt…” He shakes his head vehemently, more tears sliding down his cheeks. 

“Hey.” Keith scoots closer. “I know. I know you’d never hurt me.” He reaches out to touch him but then seems to think better of it and withdraws his hand. 

Lance peeks up at him. His eyes are still wide and too dark, something like want in them and it makes Keith’s heart kick in his chest. 

“Do?” Lance asks. 

Keith nods. “Yeah, I do. I know you’d never hurt me,” he says again.

Lance’s fingers twitch like he wants to reach for him but doesn’t. “Special,” he says softly, his gaze searching. “Mine?” 

Keith flushes again. “I-”

The longer he struggles for words the more Lance’s face falls, something like horror crossing his features and he scrambles further away.

“Not mine,” he says, shaking his head, more tears slipping down his cheeks. “No, no no no no. Not mine, not mine.” He buries his head behind his knees and cries. His fingers are white around his knees and he’s shaking. 

“Didn’t mean to hurt.” He shakes his head again and he sounds so broken. Keith doesn’t know what to do. 

“Hey, hey.” Keith fumbles for words. “I-” He scoots closer again, mind scrabbling for something to say. “No one’s-” He bites his lip, swallowing his pride. “No one’s ever wanted me before,” he whispers, something like heartache slipping into his voice. Lance doesn’t pick up his head but he smacks his first firmly against his chest. 

“Me,” he chokes, hitting his chest again. His voice is still thick with tears.

“Okay. Okay. I didn’t know.” Keith’s hand hovers awkwardly between them. Lance peeks up at him, the barest sliver of his eyes visible over his knees.

Keith tries to smile and hopes it’s reassuring. His ears are burning. 

“We never really had a conversation about it you know?” 

Lance’s cheeks are red as he peeks up a little further from behind his knees. “Mine?” he whispers again, voice scared.

“God, this is so awkward,” Keith mutters, swallowing thickly. He takes a deep breath, gathering his courage. “If you want,” he says softly. “I’d like to be. I’ve just- never been someone’s before,” he whispers. A self-deprecating note works into his voice. “Not sure I’m any good at it.” 

Lance’s hand slowly uncurls towards him, pausing in the air and it trembles. Keith holds still, Lance’s eyes flicking to his nervously. When he doesn’t pull away Lance closes the distance between them, his fingers touching Keith’s jaw. He flattens his hand against Keith’s cheek and no one has ever looked at him like that. 

Lance’s fingers slide down Keith’s neck, touching the bruises on his throat, one by one, lingering. 

“Sorry.” 

Keith snorts. “You weren’t that sorry yesterday.” 

Lance’s face falls and Keith catches his hand before he can pull away. 

“It’s okay.” His thumb brushes over Lance’s knuckles and he blushes again. “I didn’t really mind,” he admits wryly.

Lance pauses, his fingers wrapping loosely around Keith’s. 

“Mine?” he asks again, his voice unbearably soft, curious but wary. 

Keith is still blushing but he nods, holding Lance’s hand. “Yeah. Yours.” Keith's heart skips in his chest as he says it, his thumb still running idle circles over the back of Lance’s hand.

“God, I hope you remember this later or things are going to be _real_ weird _.”_

Lance watches the movement, letting his fingers cautiously brush over Keith’s, watching Keith’s face as he does. His cheeks are still red but he looks like he means it so Lance holds his hand more tightly. 

“Can you come here?” Keith asks. “That doesn’t look all that comfortable.”

Lance shifts nervously but doesn’t come any closer, still folded tightly into the corner.

“Mine, remember?” Keith says softly. Lance’s head turns and he stares at their intertwined hands. 

“Yours?” His eyes flick up to Keith’s and he blushes again, nodding.

“Yeah. If you want,” he offers.

Lance nods slowly, his eyes still moving between Keith's face and their hands. “Want.”

Keith gives his hand a gentle pull. “Then come here.” 

Lance hesitates but slowly begins to unfurl from the corner. 

“Sure?”

Keith smiles and he nods. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Lance finally uncurls, slow and awkward and lets Keith tug him into his lap. Lance still looks afraid and unsure and Keith wishes he could take it away from him, wishes he hadn’t been the one to put it there in the first place. He tucks Lance’s hair behind his ear, smoothing a hand down over his cheek. Lance presses into the touch with a sigh, the tension finally leaving his body and Keith’s heart skips again. 

Lance opens his eyes, fingers toying with the front of Keith’s shirt, still terribly shy. His eyes are searching.

“Yours?” 

Keith nods, something in his chest warming. He strokes his thumb over Lance’s cheek, tracing his freckles. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Mine.” 

Lance smiles, wide and bright. There are still tears in his eyes but they’re happy. 

“Yours,” Lance says and he sounds pleased. 

Keith smiles at him and Lance wraps his arms around Keith, pressing close and holding him tightly. Keith wraps his arms around Lance in return, feeling him sigh against his throat. 

“Safe,” Lance breathes. 

Keith runs a hand over Lance’s hair, cradling the back of his neck, the other arm still around his waist.

“Yeah, you’re safe.” 

He shudders, one hand stroking blindly over the side of Keith’s face before wrapping it back around him again. 

“Safe,” he echoes faintly. 

Pidge coughs awkwardly from the hall and Lance’s sharp gaze lands on them.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting?” 

Keith looks mortified but Lance is stubbornly wrapped around him and in no mood to move anytime soon. 

Keith clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh no, no what’s up?”

Pidge raises one slow, judgemental eyebrow. “Keith.” They adjust their glasses. “I love you.” Their voice drops an octave, low and threatening. “But I swear to whatever entities of various alignments might be listening, that if you hurt or take advantage of my friend right now while he is essentially inebriated-” they pause warningly. “They will never find your body.” 

Keith clears his throat again, Lance’s fingers beginning to wander.

“Noted.”

Pidge adjusts their glasses, posture turning lazy as they pull out their tablet. 

“Good. Now. Hunk and I managed to synthesize what we think is a cure. Unfortunately due to its composition it cannot be rendered gaseous and will need to be injected straight into Lance’s bloodstream. Though it doesn’t look like you’re going to have a problem with that.” They brandish the Altean version of a syringe at him. 

“If you could stop playing octopus for a minute I could administer it.” 

Lance glares at Pidge and bares his teeth with a hiss. 

“Mine,” he growls warningly and Pidge raises an eyebrow. Keith glances between them, running his fingers over the knotted muscle of Lance’s back, trying to get him to relax. He’s coiled to spring. 

“Uhhh no offense Pidge, but I don’t think he’s going to let anyone else near him.” 

“Gross.” Pidge brandishes the syringe. “Then you can administer it.” They toss it at Keith who snatches it out of the air. “And hurry up. I’m starving and haven’t had my coffee yet.” 

“Have you been awake all night?” 

Pidge rubs at their eyes from under their glasses. “Yes. And your PDA isn’t helping assuage my shitty mood.”

Lance sniffs at the syringe and wrinkles his nose distrustfully. It smells like the room he woke up in when he was separated from his mate. 

“It’s going to help,” Keith promises. Lance pulls his head back with distaste. “Trust me?”

Lance pouts but finally offers his arm. “Trust,” he nods though he sounds petulant. If the gesture surprises Pidge, Keith doesn’t see it. He presses the syringe to Lance’s inner arm, depressing it. 

Lance makes a noise of distaste, flinching briefly. Keith tosses the syringe aside and smoothes his thumb over the injection site. 

“Better?”

Lance nods, smiling softly. 

Pidge makes a gagging noise. “Can we go already?” Before Keith can say anything they turn to Lance. “Lance, I’m stealing your boyfriend. It’s time for coffee.”

Lance is not pleased. He glares at Pidge as his hand slides over Keith’s chest and up his throat, one thumb pressing his chin up, tipping Keith’s head back. Before Keith can think to be wary of that, Lance is sucking a bruise into the opposite side of his throat. He grips Keith’s hair when Keith tries to move, holding him immobile until he’s done. 

Keith whines embarrassingly, his hands finding Lance’s waist and holding on. He sucks a deep, bruising kiss into Keith’s fair skin, color rising rapidly to the surface, dark and impossible to miss. When Lance strokes over it with his tongue Keith shivers. 

Lance pulls off with a wet pop, looking far too pleased with himself as he lets go. He makes a little noise of approval and slips out of Keith’s lap, snapping his teeth at Pidge. Keith stands awkwardly, the only one looking suitably embarrassed about the whole thing. 

Leaving the cell feels too much like a walk of shame under Pidge’s judgmental eye, one hand drifting up to cover the bruise. It’s warm and throbbing and makes his breath hitch. 

“I’ll be back,” he promises and Lance makes a little noise of interest, making him flush and he drops his hand. 

Pidge’s lips purse. “Mmmm hmmm.” 

Keith flushes and all but bolts from the room, trying to subtly adjust himself as he goes. 

“You stay out of trouble,” Pidge warns, pointing at Lance before bringing the force field back up. 

Lance sticks his nose in the air with a huff and wanders to the opposite corner to wait.


	5. Chapter 5

The next time Pidge comes back, Lance is sitting on the bed with his head resting in one hand.

“Mmm, cognizant enough to feel shame now are we?”

Lance just groans. “Oh my god.”

Pidge crosses their arms and leans against the wall, smacking the button to lower the shield. “If it helps I think you and Keith are dating now.”

Lance groans again, louder, pressing both hands over his face. His ears are a brilliant scarlet. 

“It doesn’t, but thanks munchkin.” 

“Fuck you,” they snap back. “Better yet, go fuck Keith. You both reek of sexual tension.” 

“If it’s all the same, I'd like to bury my shame by hiding here for the rest of my life,” Lance whines, hiding behind his hands. 

“Too bad. Out. Or I will drag you out by the ear.”

Lance glares up at them. “You wouldn’t dare.” 

One of Pidge’s eyebrows slowly creeps upward and they take a threatening step into the cell. 

Lance darts up out of bed and to the side. “Okay, okay, I’m going.” He skirts the outer edges of the cell as far away from Pidge as he can get. When they make a sharp move at him he bolts for the stairs. 

~

Instead of going for breakfast like he should, Lance hides in his room. He’s too horrified to risk running into Keith. Especially after what happened. And his shirt is still bloody.

Pidge rolls their eyes when they make it to the dining room only to find Lance is conspicuously missing. 

Keith is nibbling on a bowl of goo but looks lost in thought. 

“Will you _please_ go talk to your not boyfriend.” Pidge throws themselves down into a chair across from him and Keith startles. 

“What?”

“ _Lance_ ,” they snap. “He’s finally out of it and having a mental breakdown.” They roll their eyes, reaching over to steal the bowl Keith is pretending to eat from. 

Keith opens and closes his mouth, not sure what to say. He finally crossed his arms over the table. 

“I’m pretty sure I’m the last person he wants to see right now.” 

Pidge gives him the flattest look they can muster. “You know he’s hiding because he wants you right? Not because he doesn’t?” 

Keith flushes. “I-” He bites his lip. “Pidge, he was under the influence of an alien-”

“Oh for the love of-” They shove away the bowl. “You’re both idiots.” They cross their arms and lean over the table to scowl at Keith. “An alien pollen that stripped his mind down to the barest of needs and you know what those needs were?” Keith flushes. He knows where this is going but really hopes Pidge doesn’t say it. 

“You. He’s literally been pining over you for months now.” They jab a finger in Keith’s direction. “And _you_ have been doing it since he came out of a coma to shoot Sendak. So stop dancing around one another and go do something about it.” They flop back in their chair with a huff. 

“I swear if you make me watch the two of you dance around one another in the weirdest mating ritual I’ve ever had the misery of witnessing, I’ll eject you both into space.” 

Keith chews the inside of his cheek, scratching a pattern onto the table with his thumb. 

“You’re su-”

“Just go!” 

Keith startles at the sudden shout and skitters around from behind the table, making for the door. He keeps a wary eye on Pidge until the doors close behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final confrontation~

When he gets to Lance’s room Keith hesitates. In the end he decides against knocking just in case Lance decides to lock him out. Instead he hits the panel and the door whooshes open. A slant of light falls across the room, illuminating Lance where he sits on the edge of his bed looking miserable. 

They both stare at one another awkwardly, Keith tugging on his sleeve as he tries to think of something to say. He should have thought of that before he opened the door. Now his mind is blank with panic. 

Lance is staring at him looking equally frightened. Like a deer in headlights moments before he’s struck. 

“Hi,” Keith manages, the word small and rasped. He grimaces and finally steps into the room. Lance stiffens but doesn’t move to throw Keith out as he sits awkwardly on the edge of the bed. 

“So…” Keith bites his lip and feels mortification burning across his face. This was a bad idea. He swallows thickly and presses on. “We need to talk.”

“I’m sorry.” 

Keith has barely managed to get the sentence out before Lance is apologizing. 

“Fuck, I’m so-” Lance puts his head in his hands, yanking at his hair. His shoulders are tense and shaking and his voice sounds thick. “God, I’m so sorry. I don’t- I don’t know what happened.” Keith can hear him crying. This isn’t what he wanted. 

“Lance...it’s okay.” He tries to reach for Lance’s shoulder but stops before he can make contact. 

“It’s not!” Lance’s head whips up and Keith can see the mottled flush to his cheeks, the redness in his eyes. Tears stream down his face and Keith stops breathing. 

“Dude, I sexually assaulted you,” Lance chokes, horrified. He looks like he’s going to be sick. “That is the furthest thing from okay.” He scoots further away from Keith, curling into himself and Keith realizes this conversation is going nowhere. He was always better with actions than words anyway. 

Keith rolls his eyes and stands, Lance turning further away from him as he does. Instead of leaving like Lance thinks he’s going to, Keith swings a leg over Lance’s, pressing into the bed by his hip. 

He drops into Lance’s lap without preamble and stares at him, draping his arms over Lance’s shoulders. His heart is racing and his palms are clammy, Lance staring up at him in wide-eyed shock. Like he can’t process what he’s seeing. 

“Oh my god.”

“Do you want me here?” Keith asks flatly, the anxiety making the words clipped.

Lance swallows thickly, not sure what to do with his hands. 

“I-” 

“Do you want me here?” Keith asks again more firmly. 

Lance sets his jaw, his hands slowly coming to rest feather-light on Keith’s legs. His eyes dart around Keith’s face before settling back on his eyes. 

“Yes,” he whispers. 

“Good. Because if you don’t mind I’d like to have an actual conversation about where we want this to go and you’re kind of freaking out on me.”

Lance blinks at him dumbly, confusion written across his face. “So y-you’re not mad at me?”

“Do I look mad?”

Lance scans Keith's face, eyes dropping to the slant of his shoulders, his chest, the cant of his hips in Lance’s lap. 

“I-”

“I’m embarrassed and it’s making me testy but I’m not mad at you or about what happened.” He still sounds angry but Lance realizes it’s directed inward at himself instead of Lance. 

“Oh.” Lance doesn’t miss the deep bruises on Keith’s throat, his eyes searching over them. They’re bold and dark and impossible to miss. 

“Sorry about the uh-” He gestures vaguely and Keith rolls his eyes. 

“They’re hickeys Lance.” He studies Lance for a moment, voice going soft. “And it’s not like I wasn’t kissing you back.” His lips turn into a downward slant. “If anything I should be the one apologizing to you.” 

Keith flushes and looks away. He’s self-conscious of where he’s sitting but Lance’s hands have settled more firmly on his thighs and he doesn’t want to stand. His fingers toy nervously with the hair at the back of Lance’s neck. 

“What? Why?”

Keith shrugs and won’t look at him. “Same reason you’re afraid I’m mad at you. You weren’t in a place to consent to what was happening and I feel like I took advantage of you because I _wanted_ you to kiss me.” His eyes flick up to Lance’s from under his lashes. He bites his lip and lets the truth slip out of him. “Still do.”

Lance’s fingers flex on Keith’s legs, making him shiver. If the look on his face is anything to go by it’s not a reaction Lance misses. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” Keith whispers. It does nothing to dim the quiet awe in Lance’s eyes. Like he’s seeing mountains for the first time, or a waterfall, or something equally as wonderful and terrifying. He realizes it’s the same look Lance had on his face when he’d seen Blue and it makes his breathing shallow. 

“Like what?” Lance breathes. 

“Like I’m perfect.” He pushes Lance’s hair back from his face. “I’m not.” Keith slumps a little in Lance’s lap. “Stop trying to put me somewhere you think you can never reach.” Keith’s expression pulls into something sad and considering, eyes liquid-dark. 

“Wherever I go I want you _with_ me. So stop looking at me like I’m going to leave you behind.” 

Lance’s face collapses and he tears his eyes away, overwhelmed with pain and regret and longing. 

Keith tucks his fingers under Lance’s chin, turning his face back up so he can’t hide. Lance is helpless under that gentle touch. He feels raw and seen and known as their eyes meet. It settles in his gut, cold and terrifying. His breath catches and his fingers curl in Keith’s jeans as if to hold onto him as fear leaves his breathing thin. 

“You already did.” Tears flood his eyes again and regret slips across Keith’s face. 

“I’m not leaving you behind,” Keith says softly, thumb stroking over Lance’s chin. “I just didn’t realize you wanted to come with me.” 

Lance can’t hide the way he wants to when the tears fall, not with the way Keith is holding him. Keith takes it in, sees it happen, and doesn’t mock him for it. He leans down, Lance’s chin still in his fingers and kisses the tears away. 

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to run away from you,” he murmurs. “I shouldn’t have left with Allura. It was a mistake. I thought I was doing the right thing. I was just trying to protect you. I didn’t want-” 

Lance’s hands come up to circle around Keith’s waist, savoring the heat and weight of him. The touch cuts off the string of words and Keith takes a deep breath, fighting back the burn in his eyes. 

He sits back, wiping at the remnant tear tracks on Lance’s face. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

Lance’s hands trail up Keith’s back, savoring the feel of warm fabric and muscle beneath his fingers. 

He tips his chin up, closing the distance Keith has put between them, whispering against his mouth. “I forgive you.”

Keith feels tears in his lashes as Lance kisses him. He holds Lance gently, hands cradling his jaw. It’s different than before. None of the possessive heat. Just unsure tenderness and a need to comfort. His heart pounds so strongly Keith feels himself sway in Lance’s lap. 

When he pulls back Lance’s eyes fall to the dark bruises on either side of Keith’s throat. He only vaguely remembers leaving them. They’re bits and pieces that feel more like fragments of a dream than reality, but there’s the evidence sitting against Keith’s skin. 

“I’m sorry.” Lance’s fingers lightly skim the darker of the two bruises. He winces in sympathy. “Do they hurt?” He looks up at Keith, hoping they don’t.

“A little,” he admits and Lance flinches with guilt, snatching his hand back. 

“I’m sorr-”

Keith gently tips his chin up again, cutting him off. “I like them.” 

Lance’s eyebrows lift in surprise, Keith still cradling his chin. “You do?” 

Keith scowls, pulling his hand back and desperation rises in Lance. 

“I’m not making fun of you,” he hurries to get out, hands gripping Keith’s hips to keep him from running. 

“I’m not,” he insists, shaking his head when Keith’s expression refuses to lighten. 

“I want to know. The last thing I want is to hurt you or make you uncomfortable. But I can’t do that unless I know what you like.” His voice is pleading. 

Lance knows how scary it is to open up to someone, to be known. He knows he’s asking a lot of Keith but he hopes Keith will trust him enough to tell him, to be vulnerable with what he likes and needs. All Lance wants is to make sure those needs are met. 

“I’ve never done this before,” he admits, fingers tracing small circles over Keith’s hip. “Not really. The one time I tried it didn’t end well and I don’t want to screw it up again.” His shoulders slump and Keith’s expression softens. “I just want you to feel good.”

Keith’s mouth works silently, more a pout than a scowl and he touches Lance’s cheek.

“I like it when you touch me,” he ventures, fingers of his other hand pinching at the fabric of Lance’s shirt. “I like when you kiss me.” His cheeks are warm and he glances away, embarrassed but determined. 

Lance watches a muscle in his jaw twitch before Keith turns back to face him, expression firm and voice stronger than a moment ago. “I like when you bite me.” 

Lance’s lips part in surprise. “Oh.” 

“I like the bruises. I like that you’re the one that gave them to me.”

Keith’s fingers curl anxiously and he fights back the urge to run, his stomach twisting as he reveals this part of himself. 

“Was kinda hoping you’d do it again.” 

Lance’s smile is wide and bright once the words process, something like that look from before coming into his eyes again. His gaze drops to Keith’s throat, taking in the shape of it, the way he can see Keith’s pulse hammering, the anxious way he swallows under the attention. 

Shadows pool in the dips of Keith’s collarbones and Lance reaches up, trailing a finger through them like water. 

“You’re doing it again,” Keith whispers. “Looking at me like-”

“Shh.” Lance skims his finger over the slice of skin exposed by Keith’s collar. “Let me appreciate you.” 

Keith flushes, shifting awkwardly under the gentle touch. He doesn’t know what to do with that look, with the way Lance is touching him. It’s feather-light, barely there, but Keith feels it slipping between the cracks of his shields, slowly breaking them apart. It’s equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. Part of him wants to run in fear. The other part desperately wants to let Lance in. Lance is touching him like he’s a gilded statue, the look on his face reverent.

“I’m only human,” Keith breathes, trying to level the distance he feels Lance has put between them with that look. 

Lance leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of Keith’s clavicle, making him gasp. 

“Mostly,” Lance teases, the word against his skin and Keith tugs his hair scoldingly. 

“Hey-”

Lance’s lips latch onto Keith’s throat next to the hickeys he’d left just yesterday, stealing the rest of the words. 

He sucks hard, Keith squirming in his lap. Lance tangles his fingers in Keith’s hair to hold him still, using his teeth. 

Pain builds under the heat of Lance’s mouth and Keith whines, arching against him. 

“Ah-” 

His breathing is heavy and he sags as Lance pulls off with a wet pop. The skin is glossy and flushed and Lance smiles in approval. 

“You’re beautiful, Keith. Always were.” Lance hums, reaching out to stroke over the throbbing hickey as Keith catches his breath. “Let me appreciate you,” he murmurs. 

Keith tries to lower his head to look at him, eyes dark and face flushed. Lance gives a scolding pull of his hair, keeping Keith’s head craned back and he groans, thighs flexing where they bracket Lance’s hips. 

“I’m not finished,” he growls and Keith shivers, a deep moan escaping him as Lance gets back to work. 


End file.
